


In His Cups

by Kay (sincere)



Category: Marvel Avengers Movies Universe, Thor (2011)
Genre: Consent Issues, Drunk Sex, Intercrural Sex, M/M, Pseudo-Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-08
Updated: 2012-09-08
Packaged: 2017-11-13 19:54:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/507135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sincere/pseuds/Kay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everyone knows that a drunken Thor is a handsy Thor. There are no personal space or privacy issues for him. And his friends are sick of it, so they make Loki take him to bed. But a drunk Thor is not a picky Thor, either...</p>
            </blockquote>





	In His Cups

**Author's Note:**

> From a prompt at norsekink: _Thor is an affectionate drunk and when he's wasted it's almost impossible to put him to bed with getting molested or humped in the process. Sif and the W3 have all experienced Thor's drunken fondling and have long since elected Loki to put his brother to bed. They figure even a spectacularly wasted Thor wouldn't be so far gone that he would try to fuck his own brother. They're wrong._ Fills my "consent play" square on kink_bingo @ Dreamwidth.
> 
> The prompt is labeled dubcon, so here's your warning: **Loki does not consensually participate in this experience**. If that is upsetting to you, you won't like this fic!

"What is taking all of you so long? I've secured our rooms, and the innkeep looks about to pitch a--"

Loki cut himself short as his friends looked up at him, all save one. Sif stood while the Warriors Three crowded around Thor's golden head: one uncomfortable, one sheepish, one stoic. Thor was laughing quietly to himself under his breath, cheek pressed to the table, and if he heard Loki's disapproval, it did not faze him in the slightest.

"How could you let this happen?" Loki hissed at them.

After a beat, Fandral shrugged. His tone was laced with rueful amusement when he said, "He just... seemed to be having so much fun."

"So you let him drink until he cannot be trusted to stand?" Loki demanded.

Sif said, "They never listen when we ask the staff to cut him off. I tried to take his mead from him, and he smacked me on the behind." Her flat expression dared anyone to laugh. No one did. "The knee I introduced to his face in return did not so much as stagger him."

"You got off lucky," Fandral told her. "He didn't quite smack _me_ so much as -- _squeeze_."

Hogun seconded, "He patted my back. And... rubbed." His expression was as always hard to read, but he did seem to be hovering slightly farther away from Thor than he ordinarily might have.

Volstagg drew himself up to his full height and announced cheerfully, "I have cultivated a _protective layer of fat_ to ward off such attacks." He patted his belly. "Though he did try."

"You would probably rather not know what he did to the innkeep to give her that disgruntled look," Fandral added.

Loki sighed, quiet. "Well," he said. "How are we to get him into his room?"

Sif looked between the Warriors Three, and then smiled sunnily at Loki -- a smile that he suspected meant trouble. "We agreed that you would do it."

Amusement and exasperation warred for a moment in him. "Oh, really. You agreed that, did you?"

"Yes!" Fandral shot lightly to his feet, and patted Loki on the shoulder. "And thank you, by the way. Not that I wouldn't enjoy watching, but there are some ladies waiting in the hallway that I promised a good time, and now that I have a room..."

Loki shook his head in disbelief as the Warriors Three and Sif filtered out past him. Hogun paused by his side, and said soberly, "He is not so drunk that he will not recognize you. You are his brother. You will be safe."

"And if he _is_ that drunk," Volstagg chuckled, "do let us know in the morning. We'll all have a good laugh."

Then they were gone, and Loki was left alone with Thor, who was singing quietly to himself in his pleasant bass. Loki stepped up to him, gathering an arm under his shoulder. "Our friends are cruel, crafty bastards," he informed the other man.

"Brother!" Thor exclaimed delightedly, and lurched to his feet in one swift motion, almost unbalancing Loki with the suddenness. "Let us sing together! I am celebrating!"

He rolled his eyes, steering Thor away from the table. "And what are you celebrating?"

That puzzled Thor for a brief while. He was still capable of standing (which was good, because he was _very_ heavy) and he walked mostly under his own power, following Loki's insistent guidance unthinkingly and only occasionally faltering or wobbling in his gait.

"Your return!" Thor cried finally, happy. "You have been away for half the evening."

Thor's hand closed on Loki's bicep through his tunic, rubbing in a fashion that could easily be read as merely companionable. Loki spared a glance for the hand, but then returned his attention to navigating them. "I was taking care of our lodgings and soothing those who were upset by all the fun you were having, Brother," he said. "I left instructions that they stop you before you became this drunk."

"'tis only in good fun. You would know that, if _you_ were ever drunk." The blond paused abruptly, dragging Loki to a stop with him. "Why do I never see you drunk?"

"Clearly I could drink all of you under the table, with my incredible tolerance for mead. Come, now, Brother. We have to be going."

After another moment's coaxing, Thor allowed himself to be drawn another step toward his room. "That is my little brother," he said, fondly. "You have the most unexpected of gifts. And none of the expected ones!" He burst out laughing, as if this were some great feat of humor, while Loki muffled a sigh. Thor's hand skimmed up his arm to his neck, stroking the exposed skin idly.

If they used the word 'brother' any more frequently, it would be at the end of every sentence. Yet those little affectionate touches still made Loki nervous. As long as they stayed merely affectionate...

Loki managed to get them to the door, and he heard Thor's shoulder strike the wall as they stumbled into the room, but he didn't stop. He was close now to the bed, and he started to steer Thor around and let him drop, but the older man's hands gripped him unexpectedly and sent them both tumbling to the mattress.

He let out an ignominious noise as Thor laughed; they wrestled, Loki to escape, Thor to pin him down.

"I have you now," Thor crowed. "No more drifting away tonight!"

Loki huffed out a breath, trying to contain his unpleasant certainty that this turn of events -- this position, him trapped on his stomach with Thor straddling his back -- would lead to nothing good. "I won't," he said, firmly, or as firmly as he could with Thor's weight squeezing the breath from him. "You win. I will stay. Now let me up, and I will head over to _my_ bed. It's right across from here, see?"

Thor lowered his head, murmuring, "I will not let you escape me, _trickster_. I know your games..."

Lips brushed the back of Loki's neck, and Loki's arms tensed, shoving up to try again to unsettle Thor, to cast him off. He did not so much as budge. "Thor, we are brothers, and you will stop this immediately. What would Mother say!" Loki hissed.

"Mother is not here," Thor argued implacably, his mouth moving against Loki's skin; or perhaps the words were smug, some lingering reminiscence from countless childhood victories in proving who was the stronger. But this was certainly not such an innocent struggle, as Thor quickly proved by burrowing into Loki's hair, and uttering, almost a moan, "So soft... You smell good."

"We are _brothers_!" Loki snapped, and renewed his efforts to get away when he felt Thor's hands at his waist, fumbling. Thor yanked his tunic up over his head, surcoat, leathers and all, and left it there, pinning his arms together above him. One heavy hand remained there to weigh him down to the mattress as Thor reared back on his haunches.

He was not moving away, and this time he did not appear to have heard Loki's protest at all. His free hand smoothed down Loki's back, thumb following the bumps of his spine in a way that made him shiver in spite of himself. And then Thor was pulling his trousers from his hips, and Loki cursed colorfully, calling him every name he knew how to.

Thor only chuckled, ducking low to kiss his ear with hot, mead-sour breath wafting over his skin. "I will not leave you displeased," he said, confident. "I am not -- not that far gone."

Loki rolled his eyes, unable to help himself. "Yes, well, obviously. You are so very possessed of reason right now."

Still, he was rather sick of struggling for nothing, and so he allowed himself to go quiet, to wait either for an opportunity, or for the inevitable. No one could know about this, of course. He had always taken care to hide the fact that Thor seemed just as incapable of telling him from friend or stranger when drink made his hands start to wander. It was _embarrassing_.

But at the very least...

An idea was forming in his mind as Thor settled against his back, free hand turning up his hips, and then thought briefly fled from him when he felt Thor's cock press between his thighs, hot and thick and very much hard. He was certainly not one of those men who found it _more_ difficult to function when full of drink. His length dragged slowly over the sensitive skin between Loki's bare thighs until their hips were flush together, and Thor groaned into his brother's ear.

Loki could only have guessed if Thor knew that he was not actually sheathed in his body. But he had no intention of letting him notice. He shifted, tightening his legs, making them taut for Thor to rut between; he pushed up under the bigger man, rocking into Thor's movement.

Thor rumbled his pleasure, a more heated sound, and shoved forward again, one heavy hand still on Loki's hip. His cock sawed between his brother's thighs, an imitation of mounting, and Loki smiled thinly. At the very least, if he could bring Thor to completion like this, he would count himself lucky.

But the rhythm, Thor's searing flesh working between his legs, his hot breath on his ear and the infernal _heat_ of his body that surrounded Loki, warming him deep under his skin where he was so rarely warmed... That awareness was sensual, and the feeling was not unpleasant, and in spite of himself, he could not help hardening. Loki tugged at his wrists again, tried to tilt his hips so that each thrust did not stroke his sack, but if anything, Thor seemed to take that as a challenge. Another incoherent sound of amusement, and Thor shoved more roughly between his thighs, pinning him in place still more. One hand crept between them, finding Loki's half-hard cock, and squeezing, stroking him.

Loki hissed, a flush creeping into his face. "Stop, I do not--"

"I told you -- I would please you, yes..." Thor grunted.

It was all too much to resist. Thor was thrusting deep between his legs, stroking his most sensitive, intimate skin, stroking his cock with determination... Loki found that despite his best efforts, he was quickly breathless, panting into the sheets as Thor murmured, "Yes, yes, beautiful one," against the nape of his neck.

His cock was so ready it was already beginning to leak seed. It had been -- some time since Loki had sought out any companionship this way. His fingers, trapped in the tangled mess of his clothing, curled helplessly as his body sang with pleasure, rocked in the time of Thor's demanding pace. Thor stroked him, again, again, with each rut of his hips, and then lifted his other hand to pinch one flat nipple sharply, and Loki groaned, jerking forward reflexively.

"So good, you feel so good," Thor moaned into the back of his neck.

He didn't even have the wherewithal to think about Thor's inane stream of commentary, he was so lost in the rhythm, the pleasure. Thor squeezed and pumped his length, and then Loki bucked forward again, spilling against the mattress. Thor made a satisfied grunt, and then finally rutted forward in earnest, grinding between Loki's legs a few last times before he came as well. His brother's release pulsed between his thighs, hot and wet, sticky, and by the time he was finished, sagging against Loki's back, Loki had recovered enough to think, _This is complete and utter madness._

"Next time..." Thor mumbled sleepily. "...for real..." And then he was unconscious.

A few scattered, quick heartbeats passed, before Loki sighed quietly to himself. He started to wriggle out from beneath his weight, to stumble unsteadily to his own bed, and to go to _sleep_.

*

 

"You see? It worked out for everyone!" Fandral said, clearly pleased with their solution.

"That's as may be, but I think I made myself clear," Loki told them, irritably, and pointed across the table with an accusatory finger. "I do not want him becoming so drunk. If you are so soft that you allow him to become intoxicated, I can only assume you want his attentions, and so _you_ will get to bring him to bed."

The Warriors Three laughed, and Sif rolled her eyes. They had no reservations about Loki's story, nor his reluctance to continue allowing Thor to drink, which he was pleased about. It _had_ all worked out, really, and it would be for the best in the long run, and he would keep telling himself that until he stopped thinking about it.

When Thor stumbled down the stairs to the jeers of his friends, he was rubbing his head, fingers skimming through tangled blond hair, and looking thoroughly ashamed of himself. Loki wondered for half a beat if he remembered -- but he shouldn't remember, he almost never did -- and then he realized he had not cleaned up the spill of seed, and that Thor would likely have woken up with it still beneath him.

Thor said, sheepish, "I think I-- may owe all of you apologies..." His gaze flickered to their company, and then to Loki, and then -- away again, red coming into his face, flushing him.

He was doomed, Loki thought. His fingers fidgeted, tore apart the bread that came with his morning meal restlessly. Should he stop him? Make sure they discussed it in private first?

"What is _this_? Thor, you grow red," Volstagg observed with laughter. "Surely you did not find further indiscretions after Loki put you to bed!"

Sif tossed Loki a look, measuring him for -- he could not say what, could not properly think, so he glared at her impotently instead.

"No, no," Thor said, slowly lowering himself to the free seat at their table. Loki returned his attention to him, hopeful. "I had a... an unsettling dream, that was all."

"Dreams of the fair and virtuous Lady Sif breaking his royal face," Fandral proclaimed.

"Dreams of finding a willing partner and yet losing his manhood to drink!" Volstagg agreed.

"He soiled the bed," Hogun said simply, and then Volstagg and Fandral laughed raucously.

Thor flinched from their noise, and said, "Please, my friends, if you love me -- quieter..."

"All right, that is enough fun," Sif said firmly, to Fandral's muttered, "Ah, yes, the _slayer of fun_ is at her busy work already."

But Loki saw Thor turn a deeper red at Hogun's prediction, and then he found himself relaxing. Yes, of course. He thought it was just a dream, an unsettling dream where he assaulted his own brother, and when he woke and found the bed ruined with seed, he thought it his own, from his passion in the dream.

Well, far be it for Loki to ruin that convenient delusion.

He clapped Fandral on the shoulder, reassuring him, "When Thor is a trifle less hungover, and Sif is a trifle less his nursemaid, then we can resume the mockery."

"Hear hear," the other man said, brightening, and clinked his water cup to Loki's in cheerful salute. "But you will not -- _really_ make _us_ attend him in the future, will you?"

He knew immediately that he should say yes, and reiterate his point: if you don't want to deal with him drunk, don't let him get drunk. After all, no one wanted this to keep happening.

Instead he said, "I'll think about it," serenely, and finished off the water.


End file.
